


until you can feel it

by jk_rockin



Category: Glee
Genre: M/M, Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-19
Updated: 2011-11-19
Packaged: 2017-10-26 06:31:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/279840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jk_rockin/pseuds/jk_rockin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kurt doesn't do this every day- he still has shopping and homework and glee assignments to think about, after all- and he still doesn't think much of porn. He likes his imagination better. Today he's thinking about Dave Karofsky.</p>
            </blockquote>





	until you can feel it

**Author's Note:**

> Porn about Kurt fantasising about Dave; not much else. Written pre-s3, tweaked to fit canon (because we're all here for the plot, right?). Title from the song _Pump It Up_ , by Elvis Costello.

It feels sort of silly, when he thinks about it. Not his former attitude to sex- he maintains his perogative as a teenager to be as awkward as he wants about sex, thank you- but how easy it seemed, once he'd started. Kurt's never really imagined himself as the heroine in a romance novel (well, maybe once or twice), never pictured himself as the blushing damsel whose desires are inflamed by that special guy ripping his bodice. It seems really cheesy that Doing It- not once, of course, but the couple of awkward, giggle-ridden tumbles together and the long, slow makeout sessions that typified his relationship with Blaine- was enough to take Kurt from baby penguin to where he is now. Namely, spending his free time by himself in his room with his hands, his surprisingly creative imagination, and the fruits of his credit card.

He doesn't regret breaking up with Blaine. They're better friends for it. Five months of kissing in cars and Kurt's bedroom (and, on one memorable occasion, in the employee locker room at Six Flags) and their shortlived dalliances in bed were enough to demonstrate that while Kurt might not be so keen as all that on the idea of sex with Blaine- he’s lovely, they had fun, but it wasn’t anything to write home about- sex in general was definitely on his to-do list. On the whole, the experience was... broadening.

Kurt doesn't do this every day- he still has shopping and homework and glee assignments to think about, after all- and he still doesn't think much of porn. He likes his imagination better. Today he's thinking about Dave Karofsky. These days, Kurt thinks about Dave kind of a lot. He still entertains fantasies about nameless gorgeous men, about Adam Lambert, about Puck (oh, the shame) but Dave- sweet, goofy Dave, who seems worlds away from the smug, threatening creep he was last year- is playing an increasingly starring role in Kurt's go-to spank bank.

In Kurt's defence? Dave is really, really hot. Kurt had no chance to brace himself. One minute he was a hulking oaf in a letterman; the next he hung out in gay bars. They’ve met up a couple of times since their run-in at Scandals, and new improved Dave Karofsky apparently likes books and math and owns shirts that fit, and there’s no awful jacket in sight. Now that the fog of violent assholeishness has lifted, he can't see Karofsky The Bully anymore. Just Dave, with his pretty eyes and his arms and his shy smile.

So today Kurt's thinking about Dave again; imagining him spread out in Kurt's bed, hands bound above his head. Arms straining, shoulders rolling, face red with effort. Imagining his chest, dusted with dark hair, pectorals flexing, dusky pink nipples hard. His wide, powerful hips are straining too, twitching up where Kurt is kneeling between his thighs- big, strong, tree trunk thighs that press against Kurt's palms as Kurt holds them apart.

"Kurt," Dave would gasp. "You- you gotta, I'm, I'm-"

It depends how Kurt's feeling. Sometimes he wants to snake a hand between his own legs to stroke himself and let Dave thrust into his mouth, rough and desperate, until they both come. He likes picturing Dave's face, the flex of his knees, how messy it would be. Again, he can't decide if he'd rather swallow or spit, or if he'd let Dave's come run down his chin- if he'd keep some in his mouth and let Dave taste himself on Kurt's tongue.

Today, though, that's not what he wants, so he slides his fingers out of his mouth and grabs the lube. He rolls onto his knees, slipping a hand down to press slick fingers into himself. Just one, then a second just a little too fast because the burn feels good. He arches his back to get his hand closer, to ease his fingers deeper. If this were real (if Dave was really tied to his headboard, all laid out for the taking) he'd take his time, put on a show, but he lacks the patience for that now- he preps himself efficiently, getting himself slippery and open enough to twist three fingers in before reaching for the toy. By now Dave would be desperate too, wild-eyed, gripping the ropes. His big arms, gleaming with sweat, would bunch and flex, trying to get Kurt closer. (Sometimes Kurt wants to untie Dave now. He knows what would happen- Dave would haul him close, roll him over and just push in, too worked up to tease. It would be good, the idea is hot, but without that big, solid body really in his bed, on his knees will have to do.)

Balancing the toy- seven inches of silicone, his favourite- on a pillow, Kurt crawls forward, imagining Dave's thick thighs spreading his legs wide. Behind Kurt's eyelids Dave growls and shudders, urging him forward. He pushes down. The toy slips, sliding wetly between his cheeks. Angling his hips, he tries again. This time it slides just right, hits him just right, and the head breaches him. Slowly, panting and cursing, Kurt fucks himself down until the toy sits deep in his ass. He has to shut his eyes tight, has to pause to catch his breath. He loves this. Loves the feeling of being full up like this; loves the searing drag as he starts to move his hips, working the toy in and out.

Now he can concentrate. Dave's face swims into focus- flushed red, eyes intense, staring up at Kurt. He can be as self-indulgent as he wants, here, he can bask in the heat of that stare, sliding a hand up to roll a nipple between sweaty fingers. Dave would pant and groan, heaving under him. He never can stay still. Where Kurt's pillows are soft, Dave's big hard hips would pitch and twist, shoving his cock deeper, faster into Kurt's ass, making him writhe with how good it is. Even like this, even alone, riding a dildo with his eyes closed, it's still so good he's shaking a little. Every downstroke brushes the head of the toy against his prostate, just enough to tease. Kurt rolls his hips, imagining those big hands clenching and releasing as Dave pulls against the restraints. He wants the ropes gone; he wants those broad, rough hands on him, palms scorching hot on his back, on his ass, pulling him down and crushing him against that thick chest. He wants to wind his fingers into Dave's hair, to bite at the cords of his neck, let Dave kiss and suck at Kurt's throat.

Relenting, Kurt finally, finally wraps a hand around his cock. His palm stutters damply against his hot skin, gathering wetness from the slick tip as his hand picks up speed. He wants to keep teasing, make the most of the empty house, but god, he's only human. In his head, Dave bends his knees, plants his feet, and starts to really give it to him, strong, shuddering thrusts sending bright shocks of pleasure rocketing up Kurt's spine. Alone in his bed, Kurt squeezes his eyes shut, his cock jerks and he comes, sobbing, spurting over his fingers.

He sags forward onto his hands, letting his breathing slow. (Idly, he pictures Dave's face, scarlet and shining with sweat as he thrashes and curses through an orgasm; pictures untying him, soothing his raw red wrists with kisses. They would curl together, too worn out to protest cuddling.) He reaches down to ease the toy out of his ass, wincing a little as the head pops free, and flops onto his stomach. He's really gross, sweaty and covered in come, but whatever. His dad won't be home for another hour; he has time for a nap.


End file.
